


Ron and Hermione's Merry Little Christmas

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comedy, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-16
Updated: 2011-12-16
Packaged: 2018-10-26 13:07:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10787325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Ron and Hermione are alone at the Burrow on Christmas Eve.





	Ron and Hermione's Merry Little Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

             As Ron passed the hall closet, a hand reached out and yanked him inside.  He heard the lock click before a pair of insistent lips claimed his own.  He tried to speak, but Hermione’s tongue snaked inside his mouth, nearly choking him.

            “Fuck me,” she commanded, pushing him against the door.

            “Again?” he managed to croak.  This would make the fourth time today, in as many places.  

             “I’m not wearing knickers.  Feel how hot and wet I am for you.”

            Ron loved it when she talked like that, but soon his family would return from the Christmas Eve service in the village church.  He had gotten out of going by claiming Hermione wasn’t feeling well and shouldn’t be left alone.  

            Nobody believed him, of course.  His mother said if Hermione was as sick as that, she should go home.  Bill and Charlie leered at him, and Harry gave him a knowing wink.  

            Ron felt something scratchy under his hands.  

            “What have you got on?” he asked.  

            “One of Ginny’s old Hogwarts uniforms.  I found it in the attic.  Do you like me as a randy schoolgirl?” she purred, unfastening his trousers and reaching inside. 

            “Merlin, yes,” Ron groaned.  Oh, she was so _wet_ and it was all for him.  He had always known she would be like this, wild and passionate and uninhibited.  Once Hermione Granger discovered sex, there was no stopping her. 

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

            Molly Weasley’s festive mood was interrupted by the realization that she’d forgotten the vicar’s fruitcake. 

            “I’ll just pop home and get it,” she said to the others.  

            “Let me,” Ginny quickly offered.

            “Thank you, dear, but I’d better do it myself.  Save me a seat; I’ll be back in a trice.”

            “Ron’s in for it now,” Charlie whispered to Bill.  “Wish we could go along and see the fireworks.”

            “Be sure to check on Hermione,” Arthur reminded his wife.  “She’s been looking flushed all day.”

            “I noticed that.  If she’s coming down with something, the best place for her is home,” Molly said briskly before Apparating away.

 ~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~. 

            “I’m so close!” Hermione moaned, wrapping her legs around Ron’s waist as he hoisted her up, bracing himself against the closet door. 

            “Are you a naughty schoolgirl?” Ron panted, sliding into her waiting warmth. 

            “Oh, yes, I’m so very naughty,” Hermione wailed, ripping the blouse open to reveal her lush breasts.  “Yes, that’s it, harder!”

 ~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

            Molly’s first thought was that someone had accidentally shut Crookshanks in the hall closet, although she’d never heard a cat howl like that.  He was apparently trying to free himself by bumping against the door.  When she yanked it open, out tumbled her son and his girlfriend.  Ron’s trousers were around his ankles.  He scrambled to cover himself, while Hermione yanked the torn edges of her blouse together.  

            “Mum--!”

            “Molly--!”

            “In my house, in _my house_ on Christmas Eve!” Molly shrieked, descending on them like lava erupting from a volcano. 

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~. 

            “All is calm, all is bright,” sang the choir.  Arthur glanced at the empty place beside him, wondering what was keeping Molly.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

 The next day         

           Ron struck the last match and tossed it into the fireplace at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.  It slowly flickered out.  He turned as Hermione shuffled in, wrapped in a blanket. 

            “Did you find anything to eat?” he asked hopefully.

            She shook her head.  

            “Nothing.  I guess Harry buys takeout instead of cooking for himself,” she said, flopping onto the sofa.  

            Ron joined her, thinking longingly of the delicious dinner his family was probably enjoying at that very moment.  Turkey, mashed turnips, peas, roasted potatoes, and for dessert a plum pudding.  

            “Why don’t we go to Shell Cottage?  Bill and Fleur wouldn’t mind if we raided their kitchen,” he suggested.

            “I thought of that, but Harry’s out of Floo powder and I’m too cold to Apparate.”

            Ron wrapped the blanket more snugly around her.

            “This may not be the right time to say it, but Happy Christmas,” he said, gently stroking her tangled hair. 

            “Ow,” Hermione winced, pushing his hand away.  “My scalp is still tender from where your mother yanked my hair.”

            “What about me, trying to pull up my trousers while she was chasing us from the house with a broom,” Ron chuckled.  

            “We need our wands, and your Christmas gift is in my suitcase.  I wonder when it will be safe to go back?”  

            “Probably when our first child is born,” Ron grinned, pulling her into his arms. 

            “That long?” Hermione whined.

            They jumped as the fireplace roared to life.  Harry’s face appeared in the green flames.

            “Ron?  Hermione?” he called.  

            “We’re here, mate,” Ron said, jumping up and pulling Hermione over to the grate.  

            “I’ll bring your wands and Hermione’s suitcase as soon as I can get away,” he assured them, glancing over his shoulder. 

            “Pack some clothes for me as well, if you don’t mind,” Ron requested.  “It’ll be a while before Mum cools down.”

            “Could you bring us some food?” Hermione asked plaintively. 

            Ginny appeared next to Harry, holding two plates piled high with leftovers from the Christmas feast  

            “Here,” she said, carefully passing them to Ron and Hermione.  “I’d appreciate having my uniform back at some point, cleaned and mended.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

            Hermione emerged from the bathroom, rosy from a steaming hot shower.  Ron had started a fire in the bedroom Harry said they could use.      

            “All right now?” he smiled.  

            Hermione nodded.  

            “Happy Christmas, my love” she said, standing on tiptoes to kiss him.  “It’s been an eventful day.”

            “Much better than last year, though.  We’re together,” he reminded her.  

            “True,” Hermione agreed.  “I suppose I’d better mend Ginny’s blouse.”    

            “So you’re not going to be a naughty schoolgirl for me again?” Ron chuckled.

            “Not in a uniform that’s three sizes too small,” Hermione said, frowning as she surveyed the room.   “Where is it?  I left it right here on the chair.  Did Harry take it when he brought my suitcase?”

            “He must have.  I wonder what use he’d have for it?” 

            “You don’t suppose--.”

            “No,” Ron groaned.  “Not Ginny.”

            “After all, it’s her uniform.  Come to bed,” Hermione grinned, letting her bathrobe fall to her feet.  


End file.
